🦋Butterflies🦋 ~ ShinKamiBakuDeku

Go Get 'Em, Tiger!

A/N: heyyyy... *clears throat* um so hello. skipping over my curt disappearance... shinkamibakudeku!! the latter half is severely unedited so tread carefully. I'll fix it tmr (I probably won't get to it for a long while.)

Act like civilized human beings. That's what Aizawa had asked of the four boys as he drove them back to the dormitories the next morning. Hitoshi, Denki, Katsuki, and Izuku squished into the back seat of Aizawa's car, stomachs twisting from the amount of junk food they consumed last night.

Aizawa did his best to ignore the whining and groaning as he drove, occasionally glancing at Narihanna in the passenger seat. She seemed anxious, to say the least. Her fingers fidgeted in her lap, curling and knotting around themselves like they were strands of yarn and not flesh, blood, and bone. Aizawa had seen the same behavior from Denki before an exam.

At the dorms, Denki's family had refused to leave until they could speak with him and his mom to sort through this bizarre situation.

(When had the Class A dorms become a conference room for the Kaminari family? Aizawa had no fucking clue.)

In the few days since Katsuki and Mina attacked Uncle Teiden and Grandpa Ren, Denki's grandparents had brewed the idea that their grandson wasn't safe here at Yuuei. They wanted to take him back to the States immediately, and they were willing to fight Narihanna in court.

Narihanna was sick to her stomach just thinking about it. All these years, she was used to appeasing her parents and brushing them off once they were satisfied. But this was different. This wasn't about her-- it was about her son, the light of her life, the last living piece of a best friend she lost so many years ago.

Narihanna wanted her boy to be happy. And she knew from personal experience that no one could be happy trapped within the walls of her childhood home. Denki deserved better.

And... so did she.

So she tried to keep her hands still as she rode with her son, his homeroom teacher, and his uncivilized, unofficial boyfriends.

"Damn it, 'Zuku, move over," Katsuki scoffed, digging his elbow into Izuku's ribs. "You're squishing me!"

"I'm not doing it on purpose," Izuku said. "There's only so much room in the backseat, okay? And anyway, you didn't seem to have a problem last night when—"

"No, no, absolutely not," Aizawa cut in. "I don't want to hear about what you four and your single shared brain cell were up to last night."

"Ew, sensei, it wasn't—" Katsuki started.

"It wasn't anything sexual—" Izuku interjected.

"Problem children, I will swerve this car into a large body of water. Don't start."

Izuku and Katsuki pouted, but the empty threat had worked and the two boys melted into each other comfortably. Katsuki rested his head on the window, lifting his arm as a subtle welcoming gesture. Izuku beamed and snuggled under it.

On the other side of Izuku was Denki, and leaning on the other window was Hitoshi, half-asleep and half-alive. Like his mom, Denki's fingers twisted and knotted in his lap, with little sparks admitting from the friction.

His eyes buzzed around anxiously, glancing at Hitoshi to his left, then his teacher and his mom in the front, then Izuku and Katsuki to his right. He felt a bit out of place, to be completely honest. Though he wasn't sure why.

He knew his mom loved him to pieces. He had seen Mr. Aizawa put his life on the line multiple times to save him and his classmates. And Hitoshi, Izuku, and Katsuki had made it clear in each of their different ways that they cared about him, too. So why did he have a parasite of dread growing in his stomach?